


But Esau Have I Hated...

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-01
Updated: 2009-07-11
Packaged: 2019-01-19 12:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12410340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Lily had always been special; Petunia knew that. Over the years, she watched as her little sister became more and more amazing.But what about her?





	1. Chapter 1   The Boy From the Park

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  
  
Chapter 1  
The Boy from the Park

  
 “It’s for your own good, Lily,” Petunia shouted behind her as she threw the fence gate open.

 “C’mon, Tuney,” Lily begged, running in after her, out of breath and panting like old hound dog. “Don’t be a tattletale!”

 From the park to their house, it had been a full sprint race to get to the house; over sand, then tar, then grass half-dead from the lack of rain. If there was one thing Petunia knew she was better at than her little sister, it was that she was faster than her. All the way home, Lily lagged behind, trying to convince her sister of all the reasons she shouldn’t tell their mother on her.

 But this had to be done. Lily might cry, and scream, and carry on, but if her sister was in trouble, it was Petunia’s responsibility as her older sister to protect her.

 With Lily still trailing considerably behind her, Petunia jumped up the back steps and pulled the kitchen door wide open. The Evans’ home was a small house of modest means, but in the purely industrial town where they lived, there were hardly any mansions to be envious of. Besides, this house had been home to the Evans family for so many years, and neither of the girls could ever imagine living anywhere else.

 The small kitchen was cluttered, but always clean and currently smelled of tonight’s dinner: some kind of stew. At the far end, Petunia saw her mother standing over a cutting board; paying less attention to the knife and more attention to the window in her gaze.

 “MUMMY!” Petunia shouted at the top of her lungs.

 “I can hear you, Petunia,” her mother told her, wincing at the volume of Petunia’s voice.

Petunia slid across the tile floor, nearly running head-on into the counter as her mother carried the chopped vegetables to a simmering pot. Off to the side sat several bottles of seasonings that her mother would spend an eternity debating over only to end up with the same combination she used every night. On the same counter, not three feet away, there was a china mixing bowl that smelled distinctly of sugar and ginger.

Looking down to her daughter, her mother smiled, wiping her hands on her apron and setting tonight’s dinner off to the side.

 “Mummy, Mummy, guess what Lily did at the park,” Petunia told her mother as she gasped for breath. “She jumped from the swings, even though you told her not to.”

 “Lily,” their mother said in a stern voice to her younger daughter, who had reached the kitchen just in time to be in trouble.

 “I didn’t get hurt, Mummy,” Lily protested, showing both her elbows and her knees, “See?”

 Noting her mother’s breathe of relief and her softening expression, Petunia could tell that she was losing the battle. Oh, this was <i>not</i> happening again! Too, many times before, Lily had been able to weasel her way out of being punished with a cute smile or a pouting lip. Petunia had always suspected a small bit of favoritism was cast on her younger sister, and moments like these only provided her with more evidence.

Then she remembered what she believed to be the more heinous crime that her sister had committed.

 And that’s not all,” Petunia continued with her accusations. “She talked to a stranger!”

 “He was our age,” Lily countered as she watched the look of shock take over her mother’s face, “and his name is Severus Snape, so now that I know his name, he’s not a stranger.”

 “But he was a freak,” Petunia argued, this time facing her sister instead of their mother. “It’s not good for Lily to be associating with that kind of person.”

 “Tuney thinks everyone’s a freak,” Lily said, looking up towards her mother, hoping she would agree with her. “If I stopped talking to everyone that she didn’t like, I wouldn’t even be able to raise my hand in class.”

 At this, their mother laughed and turned her attention back to tonight’s dinner. Not a good sign for Petunia’s side of the argument.

 “You <i>do</i> have a bit of a suspicious mind, Petunia,” their mother agreed, “and not a lot of tolerance for anyone or anything different.”

 Petunia felt her jaw dropped. Here, Lily was the one who had broken two family rules, and <i>she</i> was the one getting a lecture. Behind her, she could almost feel Lily smirking and taunting her with her victory. No, it was not, not, <i>not</i> going to happen again this time!

 “Are you mad, Mummy?” Petunia tried to make her mother listen to reason.  “Lily’s going to get kidnapped if she doesn’t learn to have better sense when it comes to socializing!”

 “Well, I hardly think a ten-year-old is going to be dragging our Lily off to Siberia in the dead of night,” their mother laughed at her own joke. “I hardly see anything wrong with either of you girls making new friends, especially ones that live so close now that you are both on summer holiday.”

 This time, Petunia turned around to watch her little sister’s victory dance. While Lily smirked, Petunia bit at her tongue to hold back any words that might get <i>her</i> in more trouble.

 “But at the same time, Lily,” their mother said sharply, stopping Lily’s little celebration, “you know that I told you not to jump from the swings and you did it anyway. You’ll be staying inside tomorrow.”

 “But <i>Mummy</i>…” Lily whined, stomping her feet against the floor, as though she thought there was a small chance she could still walk away from all this.

 “That’s the last we’ll hear of it, young lady,” their mother ordered, effectively ended anymore tantrums. “Now go wash up for dinner, the both of you.”

 Lily pouted and kicked at the tile floor as she exited the kitchen. Petunia soon followed after her, a slight smile on her face as she left. The same smile she always got on the rare occasions she was able to win her parents’ side over Lily’s. Such a trifle thing may have seemed insignificant in many families, but for Petunia, it was a way of keeping score almost. A way of keeping track of her own abilities to have power over people and influence in the world, small as it may be to her.

Sure, Lily might be mad and stomp around the house for the next few days, but at least her parents were on her side for now.

  
<hr>

  
 At night, the girls were allowed to spend a half hour playing in their room before they had to go to bed. Lily normally spent this time doing things Petunia herself considered to be childish, such as coloring, or even talking to her stuffed animals; a habit Lily admitted she was getting a bit old for. And yet, she continued to keep hold onto her imagination that made such things fun for her.

Petunia, who abandoned such practices when she was even younger than Lily, would write in her diary. Entries that would be very stiff in style and not leave out a single detail. Tonight’s entry was filled with rants of horrid little boys and freaks of every nature.

 But tonight, instead of her usual pretend games, Lily sat on the floor, propped up against Petunia’s desk, sulking and occasionally thumping the back of her head against the solid oak; something Petunia was sure her sister was doing just to annoy her.

 “You can stop giving me the silent treatment now,” Petunia let out an exasperated sigh. “It wasn’t my idea to punish you.”

 Lily glared at the wall in front of her. It was clear that Lily was very angry, but at the same time, Petunia could also tell her sister wanted her to think she was not paying attention to her.

 <i>Thump, thump, thump.</i> Lily still continued to bang her head against the desk while Petunia winced with every sound. How could her sister not care how many brain cells she was destroying right now?

 “You’re better off without him you know,” Petunia continued to scrawl out her perfect script along the lined pages. If Lily was going to ignore her efforts at communication, Petunia was going to ignore her efforts of trying to annoy her. “I could tell he was a bad influence before he even said a word.”

 “You just can’t stand the fact that you can’t pick out every detail of my friends,” Lily sulked, finally giving up her code of silence. “If you had your way, we’d lock ourselves in our house and we wouldn’t even let the milkman near our door!”

 “You see, that’s part of you problem, Lily,” Petunia told her sister in a pompous voice, still keeping most of her focus on the words in her diary. “For you, everyone is either your best friend or your worst enemy. You cannot tell who it’s okay to trust and who’s not.”

 “And your problem is that you become too easily suspicious,” Lily argued back, but shouting as the she were having the argument with the wall. “You see the face of a monster in a ten-year-old boy.”

 “He called you a <i>witch</i>, Lily!” Petunia explained, setting her pen in the crook of her diary, and turning her chair so she could look down at the floor. “And he thinks<i> he’s</i> a wizard!”

 “He was probably just pretending,” Lily shrugged, still not making eye contact. “Tommy Brown thinks he’s a duck.”

 “Well, Tommy is insane,” Petunia justified. “And that Snape boy probably is too.”

 “But I like insane people,” Lily rested her head against Petunia’s chair, but kept her gaze on the rosebud wallpaper on the opposite side of the room. “They’re interesting.”

 “Either way, I want you to stay away from that boy,” Petunia said, reaching down to touch her sister’s shoulder. “Hanging around with that kind of crowd cannot be good for your developing brain.”

 “You use too many big words,” Lily answered, looking up, “you know that, right, Tuney?”

 Petunia had to giggle at the remark. Even when they were having a fight, the Evans sisters always managed to bring the best out of each other. Lily might have been a bit naïve towards reality with less sense than God gave a Billy goat, but deep down, Petunia cared deeply for her little sister. She had been helping to take care of her since the day she was born, and if anything bad happened to her now, Petunia knew she would never be able to forgive herself.

 And the fact that Lily was now smiling too told her they were that much closer to being over this little spat.

 “Just promise me you won’t go running around with anymore people who think they’re witches or ducks or anything else like that, okay?”

 “Well, I’m not going to be able to be around anyone tomorrow anyway,” Lily reminded her sister as she crawled in the bed, “I’m not allowed out of the house, remember?”

 Petunia didn’t look up from her diary, but her face took on another triumphant smile. Lily might not know this now, but she was going to thank her for this one day. As an older sister it was her duty to make sure Lily was running with a ‘proper’ crowd. If she started associating with freaks like Tommy Brown and that Snape boy, who knows how she might turn out.

<i>  
Dear Diary,

 Today I went to the park with Lily and we played on the swings. It was lots of fun until that horrid Snape boy from Spinners End came poking around. He said horrible things to the both of us and called Lily a witch. It’s a good thing I got her out of there when I did, for I am quite sure that boy is wrong in the head.

 Lily is throwing a temper tantrum now because I told Mummy she jumped from the swings…AGAIN. But if I know Silly Lily, by tomorrow morning, even though she is being punished, she’ll have forgotten all about it. Maybe when the ice cream man comes through our street tomorrow, I’ll bring her back an orange sherbet pop. Those things have the magic ability to bring Lily out of even her foulest moods. Anyway, more tomorrow.

Love,  
Petunia</i>

 Satisfied with both her diary and the events of the evening, Petunia turned off her desk lamp and climbed into bed herself, ready to dream normal dreams of horses, beaches, and whipped cream desserts.


	2. Chapter 2 The Green-Ink Letter

 

  
Chapter 2 The Green-Ink Letter

 

“Petunia, could you get the door?” her mother called as the doorbell rang for the third time.

“Can’t Lily get it?” Petunia answered over the noise, “I’m busy.”

In actuality, Petunia _wasn’t_ what you would consider busy. She was sprawled out on the couch, nose deep in a celebrity magazine, reading about the ‘torrid affairs’ her mother was so obsessed with. But this was the first time she’d had to relax in almost a week, and the last thing she wanted to do was leave her comfy little nest to go shoo away a vacuum cleaner salesman.

“Lily’s not here, Petunia,” her mother told her from the kitchen. “She went down to the river to play with a friend.”

“That _Snape_ boy?” Petunia asked, saying ‘Snape’ in the same tone someone might refer to a millipede or some equally creepy-crawly creature

“I think so,” her mother replied nonchalantly, making it perfectly clear that she did not understand the seriousness of the situation.

Even though the information disgusted Petunia, it hardly shocked her. Everyday, since the day that boy came sneaking up on them in the playground, he and Lily spent everyday together that wasn’t a safety hazard to leave the house. And every night, Lily would come home babbling about the assorted nonsense that boy would tell her: creatures called Dementors, sports played on broomsticks, and anything and everything having to do with witches and wizards. What was really becoming frightening, however, was lately Lily began talking as though she was starting to believe what he said. No longer was this some little pretend game she simply indulged him with, but some secret world they were beginning to share; a world that neither Petunia, nor anyone else was allowed into.

The doorbell rang again, continuously chiming like a child was pressing the button down continuously.

“PETUNIA!” her mother shouted, leaving no room for argument.

Groaning, Petunia pulled herself off the couch and dragged her feet towards the front door. Through the top window, she could see a pointed, droopy hat of violet silk. It had to be one of her mother’s friends. Petunia shook her head; the fashions women wore these days.

But when Petunia opened the door, she didn’t see a woman in a ridiculous hat ready to pinch her cheeks and remark at how big she was getting. Instead, it was a very old man whose appearance put the horrible clothing sense of her mother’s friends to shame. Matching the violet hat on his head was a brightly colored robe and pointed, curled-toe shoes.

“Hello, young lady,” he smiled down at her, eyes gleaming from behind his half-moon spectacles. “Is your name Lily Evans?”

“No,” Petunia answered shortly. “There’s no Lily in this house.”

Lily wasn’t anywhere near the house, so it wasn’t technically a lie. All the same, Petunia didn’t even feel bad about lying to _this_ weirdo.

“Well, can you tell me when Lily Evans _will_ be here?” he asked, clearly not able to take a hint. “I have something I need to deliver to her personally.”

“Really?” Petunia replied flatly, not believing a word he said.

“Would it be alright if I come in?”

“No,” Petunia answered curtly as she slammed the door in the man’s face. Taking a few steps away from the door, Petunia stretched her back and the rest of her stiff limbs, breathing a sigh of relaxed relief. She hadn’t even realized how stiff she was from how long she had been reading her gossip rag.

“Who was it, Petunia?” her mother called out, even though she didn’t leave the kitchen.

“Jehovah’s Witness.”

Petunia was about to go back to her magazine when she was stopped dead in her tracks. Relaxing against the couch, feet up on the cushions, was the same man who she had just slammed the door on. His expression was one of perfect patience and calm, as though he actually been invited in.

“Thank you so much.” The man smiled as he popped a lemon drop into his mouth. “It’s actually very important that I speak with Lily. I don’t mind waiting.”

Petunia only remained frozen for a slight moment before she jolted across the floor as though the soles of her feet had been electrocuted.

“MUMMY!” Petunia screamed, “MUMMY, MUMMY, MUMMY!”

Sprinting into the open kitchen, Petunia nearly slammed into the counter in an effort to stop herself. When she looked up, she saw her mother had already abandoned what she had been doing at the time Petunia shouted for her. She was wiping her hands on her red-checkered apron and looking down at her eldest daughter with a look of thoughtful concern.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a strange man in the house!” Petunia screeched in a panicked tone. “He was at the front door and now he’s in the house, and he said he wants Lily! He’s sitting on the couch and he’s says he’s waiting for Lily!”

“Who’s looking for me?”

In all the commotion, Lily had slipped in unnoticed through the back kitchen door, right into the chaos. Her white blouse was covered in dirt and grass stains, and she was soaked clear up to her knees, her sneakers squishing as she stepped across the kitchen tile. Any other time, Petunia would have driven herself mad wondering what Lily could have possibly been up to in order to come home in this state, but luckily for her, there was something much more dire accruing at the moment. Even their mother knew that now, her swan-like neck craning out to look into the living room and her bright green eyes growing wide with fear.

“Lily, get over by your sister!” their mother ordered. “I’m calling the police!”

“The police?” Lily exclaimed, beginning to panic. “What’s going on?”

“Lily, get over here!” Petunia shouted as she yanked her sister toward her by the collar of her blouse.

Pulling her sister back towards the south side of the kitchen, Petunia ducked down behind the side of the counter, crouching down to the floor. She tried to yank Lily down to the ground with her, but Lily fought her, long strands of dark red hair falling across her face and hiding her wild expression. All Petunia had in mind was protecting her younger sister from an invading stranger, while objective the single-minded Lily held was trying to see what had caused everyone in her house to become so terrified.

Even though Petunia eventually won the contest of strength and brought her sister down to the ground beside her, Lily strained to watch as the girls’ mother frantically dialed for the police and the color drained from her face as the dial tone came on and refused to stop. Petunia watched her sister’s eyes shift to the entryway, where the man in violet stood leisurely, a rod of some sort pointed at the telephone that their mother was still trying to call for help on.

But the man in violet seemed to forget all about the panic his entrance had created when his eyes finally found the little red-headed girl peering up from the corner.

“Ah, so this is Lily!” The man smiled at Lily, who returned a somewhat puzzled look. “I must say, young lady, you are one difficult little girl to get a hold of.”

Petunia watched her sister’s reaction. Lily wasn’t running up to him like he was her new best friend, but she wouldn’t say that Lily was afraid of him either.

“Who are you?” Lily asked in a voice that was pure curiosity.

“My name is Professor Dumbledore, Lily. I have something for you,” the man answered, reaching into one of the pockets of his robes and pulling out a yellowed, aged looking envelope. “Something I believe your young friend, Mr. Snape, told you might be coming soon.”

As soon as Lily heard the name of her friend, she snatched the letter from his hand and tore at the envelope like a small child attacking a present on Christmas morning. The torn fragments of the envelope fell to the floor as Lily unfolded the letter, her bright green eyes taking in the words with a hungry greed.

“Dear Miss L. Evans,” Lily read aloud, a very large smile spreading across her already bright expression. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…”

  
*****

  
“But I still don’t understand this,” Petunia’s father said later that night, after he had gotten home from work.

The atmosphere in the house had become much more relaxed than it was when Professor Dumbledore had first shown up on the Evans family’s doorstep.

Now, tea and hors d'oeuvres were spread across the living room coffee table, and questions and answers were exchanged over crackers and Earl Gray. Their parents spoke with this stranger as though they were old friends, with Lily sitting in between them, hopping up and down in her seat on the couch cushion. Petunia sat off to the side, alone, in a reclining chair. She held her back stiffly straight, like a cat getting ready to pounce on an intruder in its territory.

“Well, for the most part, it is exactly as the letter says,” Professor Dumbledore explained, setting his teacup down and sneaking another lemon drop. “Your daughter, Lily, is a witch; potentially a very powerful one from what I have been told. And I know that my school would consider it an honor to have her among our incoming first-years.”

A tiny, muffled squeal came from the back of Lily’s throat, and she kicked her dangling feet against the sofa, trying to contain her excitement. Petunia thought her sister just looked like she really needed to use the bathroom. Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, remained calm and composed, giving the rehearsed responses as though he had said them a thousand times before.

“That’s because Lily is what is called a Muggle-born witch,” Professor Dumbledore explained. “Sometimes, witches and wizards are born into non-magical families, and nobody really knows why. But it doesn’t make her any less of a witch than the rest of the children we send letters to.”

“Did you hear that, Petunia?” Lily called over to her sister, making sure Petunia was paying attention to all of this. “It’s just like Severus said!”

Petunia tipped her chin mechanically, her jaw clenched and her molars grinding. Like an anthropologist watching some secluded native tribe taking part in a pagan ritual, she observed the scene unfolding in front of her. Her parents nodding, eyes wide, taking everything in, Lily hopping up and down in her seat like some hyperactive terrier, and Professor Dumbledore going on and on about what a unique opportunity this was. How few children from non-magical families got a chance to go to Hogwarts, how much Lily would be able to achieve with an education from this school. How their parents were lucky to have such a remarkable child. On, and on, and on…

“So, what you’re saying is,” Petunia asked the stranger, this Professor Dumbledore cautiously, “Lily is special.”

“Well, your sister is hardly the first Muggle-born witch in the history of Britain.” Professor Dumbledore chose his words carefully, as though Petunia was a time bomb that might go off at the wrong trigger word. “But, in a way, yes; your sister is special.”

Petunia offered a fake smile over pursed lips. Everyone else was just so happy for Lily, she could hardly afford to be the only sulking face in the room.

“Girls, it’s late,” their father directed at his daughters once he noticed Petunia’s expression. “Why don’t you both go to bed? Your mother and I still have a lot of things to discuss with Professor Dumbledore.”

Lily gave a whining moan at the unfairness of her father’s order, but Petunia barely waited a few seconds before pushing herself up onto her feet and making her way to the staircase. There she waited until Lily finally, begrudgingly, jumped from the sofa and joined her on the steps, each step up taking longer than the one below it. At the top step, she craned her neck back with her ear pointing in the directions of the living room, hoping to listen in on the conversation for as long as she could.

Even after Petunia eventually dragged her sister into their bedroom, Lily still sat with her ear to the crack in the door, trying to catch even the tiniest bit of the adults’ conversation.

“Lily!” Petunia scolded her sister as she fastened the back buttons on her nightgown. “Don’t eavesdrop! Daddy said to go to bed.”

“Quiet, Tuney!” Lily hushed her older sister. “Professor Dumbledore is talking about school supplies.”

Even after Petunia had changed her clothes, written in her diary, and sat in her bed reading, the covers pulled up and the warm lamp light finally casting a rosy tint onto her cheeks, Lily still sat crouched beside the door, still finding interest in everything she heard, and still feeling the need to relay everything to Petunia.

“Spell books…and potion ingredients…and magic wands! Tuney, I’m going to get a magic wand!”

Petunia couldn’t take much more of this. It was becoming clearer and clearer that no amount of subtle hints was going to make Lily be quiet. With a small huff under her breath, Petunia slammed the book cover shut and clicked the lamp light off. The room dissolved into darkness, the only source of light coming from underneath the door. It was just enough for Petunia to still see the ecstatic gleam on her younger sister’s face as she drifted off to sleep.

And with no one to tell what she heard through the crack, Lily simply repeated everything to herself.

  
*****

  
“Mummy! Daddy!” Lily shouted back behind her shoulder, nearly stepping on the heels of the robed figure just in front of her. “Hurry up!”

Petunia was the one dragging the family behind, still choking on the lingering smell of smoke from the dim bar they had just walked out of. But where exactly they were going to find ‘school supplies’ in an empty alley was still a mystery to her.

Professor Dumbledore wasn’t with them today, though. He had been replaced, and leading them through the streets of London was a severe-looking woman with square-shaped glasses and her black hair pulled back into an uncomfortably tight-looking bun. And unlike Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall was not one for sugar-coating matters of magic nor for slowing down or going back and explaining things.

Silently, she tapped her wand against the brick wall in a pattern Petunia couldn’t even recall once it was done. In shock, Petunia watched with the rest of her family as the wall opened up, brick by brick. Eventually, the alley gave way to a whole other street; a crowded street, lined with shops and street stands, crowded with people in more ridiculous outfits, even worse than what Petunia had seen before.

“This,” Professor McGonagall announced in an almost stately tone, “is Diagon Alley.”

Without waiting a moment longer, Lily raced ahead of the small crowd and into the busy street, rushing back and forth between the one shop to another. And no one tried to stop her. Professor McGonagall, strict as she seemed to Petunia, indulged her behavior, following Lily around through the stores. She pointed out every ingredient she would need for Potions, recommended books off her supply list that she thought would be beneficial to catching up to students from magical families. And she made sure to keep the rest of the family at arms length while Lily destroyed half the wand shop before she finally found one that seemed to choose her: willow and unicorn hair.

Once the supplies on the school list had been crossed off and their parents arms were filled with bundles, their father gave the girls a handful of the strange new wizard coins and told his daughters to go buy something fun while he and their mother brought the supplies back to the car. Professor McGonagall suggested an ice cream parlor whose name Petunia didn’t even try to remember. Once they got there, Petunia also noticed that they had no normal flavors of ice cream, like chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry. Petunia settled for a green ice cream flavor with about seven different kinds of nut, which she picked out of the cream, while half-listening to the conversation going back and forth between Lily and Professor McGonagall.

“Well, Lily,” Professor McGonagall explained, “no one really seems to know what makes a Muggle-born have magical powers. But what I have noticed in my years of teaching is that when one Muggle family has a wizarding child born to them, we’re all the more likely to be seeing a younger sibling sometime later.”

“What about older siblings?” Lily asked.

“ _Older_ siblings?”

Professor McGonagall raised one of her arched eyebrows above her spectacles.

“Well, in Muggle families, they wouldn’t really know what to look for in terms of magic,” Lily explained her reasoning to the bespectacled woman. “And letters are always sent when kids are eleven. What if a witch doesn’t show any signs of having magic until later?

“Well, has it?” Lily asked when she felt that Professor McGonagall wasn’t answering her question fast enough.

The woman, Professor McGonagall, shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she considered her words carefully.

“It’s rare,” Professor McGonagall stressed, as though she didn’t want to give her future student any ideas, “extremely rare. However, it is not completely unheard of.”

Once Lily had her confirmed answer, she turned her gaze to Petunia, her bright green eyes sparkling with possibility. And Petunia instantly knew what Lily was hinting at. Her little sister was convinced that she was a witch as well. And now she was trying to find a way to get Petunia into Hogwarts too! Lily was trying to find a way to make sure the two of them stayed together!

“Petunia, my flavor’s really good,” Lily suddenly said, holding the dripping cone that smelled like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out to her sister. “Try some.”

Gratefully, Petunia took the cone from her sister and slurped at it purposefully loud, causing Lily to burst out laughing and Professor McGonagall to look on at the strange relationship the sisters shared.

  
*****

  
Later that night, it was Petunia’s turn to be kept up by excitement while Lily collapsed into her bed. A few of the books lay open on the floor, their brown wrapping paper crumpled and strewn away like pieces of trash, but for once, Petunia didn’t mind the mess that had been created in her bedroom. In fact, it had been her that begged Lily to open up her school supplies so that she could see them. In fact, the two sisters had stayed up well past their bedtime quizzing each other from the schoolbooks, trying to get one another ready for Hogwarts.

“What are the two names for aconite?” had been the first question Lily asked her once she was tired of trying to learn these things for herself.

Petunia curled her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she searched her memory for the answer. “Monkshood and wolfsbane.”

“Correct,” Lily said as she set down A Thousand and One Herbs and Fungi in favor of another textbook entitled Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1. “Now, what is the incantation for a levitation spell?”

“ _Wingardium leviosar_ ,” Petunia answered confidently.

“That’s right!” Lily smiled and handed a chopstick hair ornament to her sister. The girls hadn’t been practicing with Lily’s actual wand for fear they would accidentally blow up the house. “Now show me the wrist movement.”

Petunia took the hair ornament, pausing as she tried to visualize the diagram she had seen in the book. “Swish,” she whispered softly, reminding herself of the movements out loud, “and flick.”

“Right, right, right, right, right!” Lily exclaimed, bouncing up and down just as she had when Professor Dumbledore had first told her that she was a witch. “Goodness, Tuney! At the rate you’re going, you’ll know more about magic going into Hogwarts than the students who come from old wizarding families!”

Petunia couldn’t help, but feel proud of herself. She knew that if she did end up going to Hogwarts, she would be two years older than all the other first-years. So not only did she have to be on par with the students who had known about magic their whole lives, she also had to be at the top of their class. She would come into this school needing to prove herself even more than Lily had to.

“I’m sure you won’t be in with the first-years for very long,” Lily had assured her. “I’ll bet the teachers will give you extra homework and even work with you after class. You’ll be taking classes with the other thirteen-year-olds before Christmas!”

Petunia beamed at her younger sister’s praise. “You really think so?”

“I know so, Tuney!” Lily had seemed so sure of herself as she gave her answer. “You’ve always been really smart and ambitious; you’ll probably get sorted into Slytherin the second the Sorting Hat touches your hair!”

Once again, however, Petunia had been lost in the world that Lily had one foot in. Noting her sister’s confused expression, Lily went on to explain how Hogwarts had this special singing hat that had originally belonged to one of the school’s founders. As soon as the school’s new students arrived, there was a big ceremony where the hat would be placed on each student’s head and it would actually see into their heads and decide which house they would be in. Each house had different personality traits that they looked for in their students.

“Gryffindors are brave and daring,” Lily had explained, her eyes drifting upward as she tried to remember everything. “Hufflepuffs are hardworking and loyal, or they just weren’t fit to be in any of the other houses. Ravenclaws are intelligent and creative, but they can also be snobs and show-offs…

“And Slytherins,” Lily had finished with a certain amount of reverence in her voice, “are cunning and ambitious. And that’s you all over, Tuney!”

Again, Petunia felt a slight blush creep into her cheeks at her sister’s praise of her. This time, however, she couldn’t help but agree with what Lily said. She already knew she was ambitious, especially given her plan for climbing up two grades in a matter of months. As far as being cunning went, Petunia had always been able to talk people in and out of things, be it getting a better desk in the classroom or convincing someone to trade her their dessert for her carrot sticks. She couldn’t be quite sure if that could be called ‘cunning’, but maybe cunning was one of those things that became more sophisticated as you got older.

“Slytherin’s the house that Severus thinks he’ll be in,” Lily had gone on to say. “And if it’s the house that you’re going to be in as well, then I suppose it’s the house I want to be in too. I’m not so sure I’m cunning, but maybe you can teach me before we leave for school.”

Petunia had to fight very hard to keep from grimacing. To do anything that would associate herself with that Snape boy; the mere thought made her skin crawl. But then, she also supposed she and Lily would not be spending every moment together. Petunia would more than likely than likely be spending her time with the other girls her age as often as possible in the hopes that hearing about their lessons would help her accelerate all the faster. Who knew? If they became good enough friends, they may even help Petunia study. But Petunia would have her friends and Lily would have hers.

And they would be at Hogwarts together.

“What about their faults?” Petunia had then asked her sister. “Slytherin, I mean.”

Lily’s expression seemed to go blank, as though she had no idea what Petunia was talking about.

“Well, Gryffindors are brash, Hufflepuffs are rejects, Ravenclaws are snobby show-offs,” Petunia elaborated. “What about Slytherins, or are they the only perfect ones in the school?”

Petunia had only meant that last comment as a joke, but she noticed that Lily had suddenly became very uncomfortable. It was clear that Lily had an answer for Petunia’s question, but simply didn’t want to share it with her.

“You see,” Lily began, very reluctantly, “in the early days of the school, people who got sorted into Slytherin really believed in blood purity…and that students from Muggle families weren’t fit to learn magic.

“But Severus says all that was a long time ago,” Lily stressed before Petunia could even have time to react, “and that nobody cares about all that anymore.”

Everything was roses as far as Lily was concerned, which was why she was now able to sleep so soundly, a peaceful expression resting on her peaceful features. But one persistent thought was keeping Petunia awake: what if her letter didn’t arrive before it was time for Lily to leave? Lily seemed so confident that the school would be writing Petunia any day now, but the more skeptical older sister couldn’t help but wonder: what if they didn’t? What if they didn’t even know to write Petunia until Lily got to Hogwarts herself? By then it would be too late and Petunia would have to wait a whole other year before she could go to Hogwarts and just fall that much further behind. Who knew if she would even be able to catch up then?

While Lily seemed to have complete faith that the school would recognize Petunia’s potential themselves, Petunia was not so trusting of these strangers. Maybe she would have to be the one to remind them. Just how to go about doing that was going to prove to be a bit more of a challenge. She doubted it would be as simple as calling the school on the telephone. Did wizards even use telephones? Most of their communication seemed to be done through writing letters. A letter might work, but Petunia didn’t even know the address of the school. Professor Dumbledore had delivered Lily’s letter himself, so there would be no point in looking on envelope for a return address. Even so, if this school was really as secret as everyone said it was, they wouldn’t write the school’s address down for anyone to read.

And all these thoughts simply led her to more thoughts. Even if she did find a way to send a letter to Hogwarts, there was no way they would simply take Petunia’s word for it that she was a witch. These people were not stupid. If all it took into their school was for a person to say they were a witch or a wizard, they would soon be flooded with students without a drop of magic inside them and the professors would have nothing to teach them. Petunia wasn’t like that though, of course. She took to learning magic naturally, possibly even more so than Lily did. Just how she could make the school see that, though…

Suddenly, in a flash of brilliance, it came to her: her diary! She had been keeping it for more than a year, and maybe she had written about some form of magic without even realizing it! It all seemed so simple now as she grabbed the tiny blue-cover book from the surface of her desk. She would read through it herself first and mark all the entries that had mentioned magic in them, and then she would send a letter pleading her case. And then they would have to let her go school with Lily! As Petunia thumbed through the lined pages of writing, she felt filled with this wild new sense of energy, electricity almost. Hadn’t Lily once described magic as being something electrical? Oh, this only added to Petunia’s conviction!

The first possible proof she found was on the first day of school this past year. Petunia and Lily had parted ways on their walk, Lily going to the primary school and Petunia to the secondary school. On the way there, Petunia ran into a heavy-set eighth grade girl who made fun of her skirt, asking Petunia which rag bin had she fished it out of. As the girl laughed, however, she suddenly fell backwards into a very large mud puddle, the only one on the street. And then it was Petunia’s turn to laugh as she made her way to school, clean and dry. At the time, Petunia had simply assumed that the girl had tripped, but maybe it was she who made the girl fall.

As Petunia continued looking through the pages, she was able to find more and more proof that she was a witch. On Christmas, she had been able to predict every present she and Lily would get before they even opened them. And all too many times, she would set something down only to find it had disappeared a few moments later. On and on, she marked page after page until she was certain she had more than enough evidence to prove that she deserved a spot at Hogwarts.

Now all that was left was to write the letter. Still running on fumes from the electricity that had so filled her before, Petunia was able to write the entire letter without even needing to pause and think about the words. It was almost as though her mind had already spilled out the letter in front of her and her hand was merely picking up the pieces.

  
_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Petunia Evans; you came to my house to deliver a letter to my little sister, Lily, inviting her to your school. You came to our home and explained to my parents and explained to them how Lily is what is called a Muggle-born witch, someone who doesn’t have any Wizarding relatives, but has magical powers anyway._

_Well, since you have been gone, my sister and I have been learning and asking questions all about Muggle-born witches. The teacher who took us to buy school supplies, Professor McGonagall, was able to answer most of Lily’s questions, but one of the answers she gave has been forcing me to wonder ever since. Professor McGonagall told us that when a family has one witch in it there, there are probably going to be more. The reason I’m writing is because I think I might be a witch too._

_Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not blaming anyone because I didn’t get a letter when I was eleven, and can even understand why I may not have gotten one. Professor McGonagall also said that sometimes a witch’s powers don’t show until after most students begin their first year at school. I understand that these cases are extremely rare, but still, I think I might be one of them._

_Just now, before I began writing this letter, I was thinking about all the things Lily could do and tried to remember anything I could have done in the past that might be considered magical. Enclosed is a journal I have kept for more than a year with marked passages of where magic that I have cast are mentioned._

_So, as you can see, I really do have good reason for believing I’m a witch, just like my sister._

_I know that if I were to come into your school right now, I would be two years behind all the students my age; but that doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind having to learn with the younger students for a little while. Lily and I would be together, so I think it would actually be good for us, the both of us being from Muggle families and not knowing anything about the wizarding world. And I’m sure I could catch up to the students my age in no time. I’m a hard worker and an excellent student, any of my teachers will tell you that. You can even go to my school and talk to them. None of them have to know that you’re a wizard; you can just tell them you’re the headmaster of a boarding school that is considering me for admission._

_All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to prove what I can do. You gave Lily a chance to become a witch. Isn’t only fair that I be given the same chance?_

_Sincerely,  
Petunia Evans_

  
Petunia allowed the pen to drop from her fingers, noting the gentle ache that crept through the muscles of her arm. Now all that was left was to send it all off and keep her fingers crossed.

Carefully, Petunia crept down the staircase, watching the creaking steps, wincing at the smallest noise that might waken her parents. Only once Petunia finally made her way to the paper cupboard did she finally relax. She rummaged through the stacks of paper, searching for a carrier for her message out into the world. The only thing big enough to hold the diary was a single Manila envelope. Faint pencil marks were erased from the front, but it seemed clean enough to work for her purpose. Stuffing both the letter and the diary into the envelope, Petunia finally walked out into the cold night.

Dew had already gathered on the grass and stray clippings stuck to her bare feet. Thankfully, the outside light did not react to her movement, and she was able to sneak across the walkway under a cover of darkness. She raced for the neighborhood postbox, like a military scout running though enemy territory and dropped the letter inside up a loud clunk, Petunia gasping for breath once the task was finally done.

As Petunia stepped away from the postbox, she noticed a heavy metallic smell, like old coins, being carried on the wind. It was going to rain soon. As Petunia returned to the front door, she walked backwards, almost as though she expected someone or something to appear out of thin air and take the letter while she watched.


	3. Chapter 3 The Fight Home

 

 

 

Chapter 3  
The Fight Home

 

Slamming the car door shut, Petunia crossed her arms in front of her and waited for more leisurely-paced parents. The vinyl seats were hot against her bare legs. The seatbelt buckle burned like a white-hot piece of coal and the early afternoon sun seemed magnified through the car windows. Petunia told herself that this was the reason her face felt so hot. And although it made no sense, she also told herself it was the reason her eyes were burning and she found her breath catching.

Finally, her parents stepped into the car with her. Petunia was able to ignore her own discomfort enough to force a straight face for their presence. But while no one in the family flat-out said anything was wrong, Petunia couldn’t help but feel something was off. From the time her father put the car into drive, no one inside the cab said a word. Her father stared out the windshield, a grim expression on his face, while her mother kept her gaze forward, but almost didn’t seem to be seeing anything in front of her. Neither of them had even bothered to turn on the radio.

Desperate to distracted herself from what was accruing inside the car, Petunia turned her attention to outside the window. Her eyes darted back and forth as they drove through villages, fields, over rivers, more fields, and still more fields.

“STOP!”

Petunia flew forward, the seatbelt cutting across her, as her father slammed on the brakes.

“Lydia!” he turned to her mother, anxious to learn what was wrong. “What is it?”

“The stationary!” Petunia’s mother gasped. “The stationary I bought for Lily. I never gave it to her!”

It was clear that Petunia’s father did not believe this warranted the emergency stop, but he tried to humor his wife. “Well, you can just give it to her when she comes home for Christmas. It can be a ‘Welcome Home’ present’.”

“She can’t go that long without it!”

“It’s paper, Lydia. It’s not going to go bad.”

Petunia, strapped to her seat, could not believe what she was seeing. Her mother had always been a calm, even-tempered woman. Certainly not the type to go into a panic over a set of paper. What was happening?

“But what is she going to write letters home on?”

“I’m sure that that the school will have plenty of paper for her to use.”

“But I already wrote our home address on the envelopes-”

“Lily knows her own address, Lydia!”

“Oh, Lord! Why did we ever agree to this?” Petunia watched as her mother teetered on the verge of tears. “We’ve never been to this school, we don’t know where it is! We don’t know who Lily’s teachers are or _what_ they’ll be teaching her for that matter. She only eleven for God’s sake, and we just left here there with no-”

“SHUT UP!” Petunia screeched at the top of her lungs.

Both her parents stared back at her, flabbergasted. Normally, one of the girls talking back to their parents like that would have been met with the harshest of consequences, but today Petunia didn’t care. She was sick of hearing her parents go on and on about Lily. Wasn’t it enough that Lily’s school, Lily’s books, and Lily, Lily, Lily was all the family had been talking about all summer? Did they really need to still be talking about her now that she was gone?

Petunia glared back at her parents, holding herself much like a snake ready to strike. It didn’t matter what her parents said to chastise her, she just couldn’t stand all this fussing over her little sister.

“Lily’s going to have a half dozen teachers watching her every move, every day,” Petunia ranted on. “She’s had her nose in those witch books ever since she got them and she has that Snape boy to tell her anything she doesn’t already know. And Lily is not the first person that school has ever had who came from a normal family. Nothing’s going to happen to her!”

The car was dead silent, save for Petunia’s gasping breath. It was almost like the calm that occurred before every storm. But whatever Petunia _had_ been expecting to happen, it was nothing close to what actually happened.

“Lily will be fine,” her father assured her mother as he shifted the car back into drive and continued forward.

Then Petunia heard her mother sigh, sounding almost content. “Yes, she will. I suppose I’m just starting to get some of those empty-nest feelings.”

Petunia was shocked. Empty nest? _She_ was still here, wasn’t she? Even when Lily was gone, she still commanded the majority of the parental attention.

But what her mother said next shocked, and angered, Petunia the most.

“Thank you, Petunia, for putting things in perspective.”

 

* * *

 

Petunia shut off the vacuum cleaner and rolled it out into the hallway for her mother to use. With the door shut, she set to work on straighten the stuffed animals that she had throw from the floor up onto the freshly-made bed. It was so typical that Lily would leave home for a year and leave a giant mess of their room that Petunia would have to clean up all by herself. But maybe now that Petunia would be the only one living in the room, it would stay clean for more than a day.

Ever since the family got home, Petunia had been working on the bedroom that she and Lily had once shared. Petunia didn’t know what her parents had been doing since they got back to the house, but they hadn’t been bothering her, and that was all that mattered to her. She wanted a steady stream of work for what she was doing: making the beds, lining Lily’s animals in a straight row under her bed, taking the dirty white socks and other assorted clothing down to the laundry room, and moving all the pens, papers, and everything else on Lily’s desk that she hadn’t taken with her into the drawers. It was almost as if in cleaning the bedroom so thoroughly, she was removing every trace that Lily had ever lived there.

Petunia sprayed move wood polished and scrubbed at the surface of the desk, trying to get rid of the daisy Lily had drawn into the wood. The black ink smeared into the grain until it blended to the point where at a quick glance, anyone else would have even noticed it. She might have considered her work on the desk done if it hadn’t been for the piece of yellowed paper sticking out from between two books on the shelf, crumpled and wrinkled.

Even before Petunia pulled it from the shelf, she knew exactly what it was. It was the letter she had received little more than a week ago. The one that had explained exactly why she wouldn’t be able to attend school with Lily, in vivid detail.

On an intellectual level, Petunia knew she should just throw the letter away. Despite the fact that it was written by a wizard, it wouldn’t say anything different than it had the first time she had read it, and by opening it again, it would only be a form of self-inflicted punishment for something that was purely not her fault. Still, all these thoughts did not stop Petunia from unfolding the letter and once again scanned over the neatly written script and allowing the razor-thin paper to slice through her.

__  
Dear Petunia Evans,

Thank you for writing to me. I do, in fact, remember you. You slammed the door in my face when I asked to speak to your sister. But don’t worry, I harbor no ill will. I also remember how protective you were of Lily and Professor McGonagall has told me that on the trip to Diagon Alley, it was Lily who first suggested that you may be a witch who simply hasn’t show her powers yet. It is clear that you two are very close and I understand why you have such an insistent desire to attend Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, however, I am afraid I cannot offer you a spot at Hogwarts. While it is true that a Muggle family with one magical child born to them is all the more likely to have a second child with magic, you are not the case. The reason we are able to find our Muggleborn students is because of a magical quill in our school’s possession that detects and records the births of all British-born magical children. Once a year, our deputy headmistress checks the list of recorded names and sends letters of acceptance to all those names she finds. I have rechecked the list of names for your age group myself and your name was not among them. And as compelling as your evidence and well thought-out as your letter and your diary were, I trust that if you were indeed a witch, you would have received a letter when you were eleven, just like all young witches and wizard.

But although you yourself may not be a witch, the fact that your sister is one does by extension make you more special than most Muggles are. Many Muggles go through their lives never knowing that magic exists. They reside in a shadow of ignorance for all of their days, never knowing of the second world residing right beside them. You, however, are different. You have the unique opportunity of having one foot in the Muggle world and the other in the wizarding one. This could help to provide you with many opportunities in the future to act as a liaison, both officially and unofficially, between the two worlds. Who knows? Maybe one day you will come to Diagon Alley with your children or even your grandchildren to buy school supplies for their first year. And those children will be incredibly lucky, because they will have you to guide them through it.

The magical world will have a lot of opportunities to offer you, Petunia Evans. But I’m sorry that being a student at Hogwarts will simply not be one of them.

Best Wishes,  
Albus Dumbledore

 

By the time Petunia had finished reading the letter for a second time, her eyes were not only burning, they were filling with tears that were beginning to plop onto the paper. In a flood of emotions that Petunia couldn’t even distinguish, she tore the letter into ragged pieces. The tears continued to pour down her face as she clenched the fragments in her fists. She didn’t want to throw them into the waste basket; she didn’t want them anywhere near her house. Finally, she rushed to the window, fingers fumbling with the lock, and she thrust her hands out into the open air, shaking them to get every last fragment away from her. The pieces of the letter rested still on the thick, humid air for just a moment, before the not wind carried them off to the North, effectively removing any trace that a girl named Lily Evans or her newfound world ever existed.

Then, Petunia feel to her own bed and cried. She could not be sure if she was crying out of anger, disappointment, embarrassment, or purely out of sadness that her sister was gone. Not only gone, but had made sure that before she left, she had risen Petunia’s hopes only to leave it to a stranger to bring them crashing down. Maybe it was some combination of them all, some brand new emotion too complicated to be named.

 

* * *

 

“Hold on, Petunia,” her mother stopped, setting the camera down. “Your hair is sticking up in the back.”

Petunia humphed under her breath and recoiled in disgust when her mother tried to slick her hair back with her spit. This was a yearly ritual that Petunia could never force herself to enjoy. Every year, her mother would stand the girls, side by side, in the entryway, right in front of the door in their brand new school clothes and take their picture at least a dozen times, until she finally became satisfied with at least one.

“Oh, I don’t believe it,” her mother fretted as she prepared the camera. “Lily’s starting at her brand new school, and I won’t even be able to get a picture of her.”

“Well, next year the girls will just have to put on their new school clothes and take the picture _before_ school starts,” her father replied, looking over the newspaper.

Petunia rolled her eyes. She could hardly believe that even though Lily had been gone for days, she was still the center of every conversation in the house. For as much as Lily had been spoken of, she might as well have never left at all.

“Alright, Petunia,” her mother’s face hid partially behind the large, black camera, “look at me, dear. Now, smile!”

Once again, Petunia’s forced smile appeared on her face and spots danced over her eyes as the camera flashed brightly. Several more times this was repeated until Petunia was fairly sure she was blind and would be able to tell if her picture was being taken anyway.

But even through her lack of perfect vision, Petunia could still see the shape of her father glanced down at his wrist watch with a start. “Oops, I’m going to be late for work!” he said, gulping down the last of his coffee and living his wife and daughter each with a kiss on the cheek before leaping out the front door.

“Mum, and _I’m_ going to be late for school,” Petunia told her mother in a nagging tone. “I’m sure you have more than enough photos.”

Her mother sighed and set the camera on a nearby table. “Oh, alright. But next year, when we take the picture with your sister, you’re going to humor me for as long as need be!”

Petunia gave a noncommittal nod before opened the front door and rushing down the steps to the paved path. The sun, despite its still low position in the sky, was blocked by a heavy concrete slab of clouds covering the sky for as far as she could see. A mist lingered in the air, dampening Petunia’s clothes and her book bag and the new rubber soles of her shoes scraped irritatingly against the sidewalk.

The sky, the landscape, even the air itself seemed so much dingier than it had ever been before. Knowing that there _was_ another world out there, one that here sister would grow up in now, made the ordinary world around her seem so gray and dull.

As Petunia came closer to the school, clusters of children began to walk beside her, although she did not stop to speak to any of them. Growing up, Petunia had never had very many of what she would consider close friends. There were people she would sit with in and class and at lunch, people she would talk to in the hallway, but never invite them to her house or go to the park or the movies. Normally, she would have Lily to do all those things with. There were so close in age, there were times they felt more like friends than sisters.

This year, Petunia knew she was going to have to be a little more social. Which might have been a tad easier if the crowds didn’t scatter as soon as she approached.

 

* * *

 

“Petunia,” an overly enthusiastic voice called out to her. “Petunia Evans!”

Petunia cringed and stepped up her pace, hoping that if she just ignored the shrill voice behind her, the owner of it would simply go away. Once she felt that boney-fingered hand on her shoulder, however, all that hope shriveled and died.

No longer able to avoid the inevitable, Petunia spun on her heels and prepared mentally for her performance. “Hello, Miss. Marcus,” Petunia greeted her former teacher through her clenched-teeth smile.

Miss. Marcus was an older teacher, Petunia’s former sixth grade teacher, who was the type to take to much interest in the personal lives of her students. As a sixth grader, when Petunia had fallen onto the sidewalk and fractured her arm bad enough to require a cast, Miss. Marcus had asked Petunia to stay after school nearly every day for a month to try and find any holes in the story she had been telling, trying to see if the fall had really been more of a push. And it wasn’t just Petunia; any student who came into class with a note in their hand, tears in their eyes, or rage in their voice, Miss. Marcus would swoop down on that student like a vulture. She seemed to be the type of person that fed on the emotional turmoil of teenage students; what allowed her to continue teaching for year after year.

Right away, the pin-curled woman began rattling on with some mundane nonsense that Petunia couldn’t have cared less about. Going through every conversation Petunia had ever had with this teacher was torture, but it _had_ allowed Petunia to develop the finely howned skill of being able to make someone believe that she could remember every word they said verbatim, when in truth she couldn’t even have guessed what the conversation had been about.

Possibly another skill worthy of a Slytherin…

It really wasn’t as hard as so many people thought it sounded. A nod here, a non-comitial sound there, remember to keep eye contact, and always pay half attention to the facial expressions and react accordingly.

“-but where’s your little sister?” Miss Marcus asked Petunia, sparking the reflex to start paying attention to the conversation again. “Wasn’t she supposed to start secondary school this year?”

Petunia felt in lip curl into an almost-sneer against her will. Already, the vulture had swooped down on the scent of new meat. Miss Marcus didn’t need any incentive to pry into Petunia’s family life. To make things worse, this year Lily was supposed to have been in her history class. And to have her simply vanish off the class list mere weeks before the school year was supposed to start, that was certainly enough to perk the teacher’s curiosity.

“Lily’s going to a special school for gifted children,” said Petunia, reciting the story that the family had concocted and had been practicing for days. “It was a last minute acceptance, so we were surprised, but we were very excited to have her go.”

The teacher nodded, but the look in her eyes showed that this information in and of itself was not enough to satisfy her hunger. Almost immediately, she swooped down for more. “Is it a school in another town, or does she have to take the train to London everyday. Maybe I’ll still be able to see her when your family comes to conference night-”

“It’s a boarding school.”

Miss Marcus raised an eyebrow, her hunched figure leaning in further, prompting Petunia to take a few steps backwards to maintain her personal space. As good as this woman was at sniffing out potential for a scandal, she was even better at sensing where there actually _was_ one. And it was becoming more and more clear that she was not about to let Petunia out of her site until she had gained every scrap of information there was to offer.

“Well, what is this school called?” she asked in a sugar-sweet voice, masking the true nature behind the investigation.

“I forget,” Petunia lied with an acquired ease.

“You forget?” Miss Marcus repeated skeptically. “What do you mean you forget? How could possibly not be able to name the place where your little sister will be living for over half of the year.”

Then, as though answering for her, Petunia heard the first bell ring, signally the two minute warning before the beginning of the day. There was a time Petunia might have thought that _this_ too had been caused by magic; before she had written proof that though like that were really all that was: wishful thinking.

“I’m going to be late for math,” Petunia stated matter-of-factly, clutching her school bag to her chest, however, as though it were a shield. “Excuse me, please.”

Miss Marcus made no effort to move, eyes still boring into Petunia, so it was Petunia who had to sidestep _her_ to be able to make her way down the hall. But no matter how far she walked, how many times she heard her shoes clap against the cheap tile floor, Petunia could still feel the eyes on the back of her head; eyes that only helped to serve as a reminder that Lily was now attending school in a castle while Petunia remained in a cheap state school in a dingy, sooty industry town.

 

* * *

 

The first several days of eighth grade passed much like every other first week of school had. In short, the left Petunia exhausted with little more energy than it took to finish her assignments and fall into bed. It fell into a routine that Petunia repeated day after day, broken abruptly by a sharp yank from the path up to her bedroom.

“Petunia!” her mother exclaimed, stopping her the moment she stepped through the door. “Where have you been?”

“ _School,_ Mum,” Petunia answered flatly.

“Well, get into the living room! We just got our first letter from Lily!”

Petunia shook her head, as though trying to shake of the remainder of her daze. On the couch, Petunia show her father was already starting reading the piece of yellowed parchment, absorbed in the written words. Running ahead of her, Petunia’s mother rushed to the couch to read over her husband’s shoulders. And finally, after a few stern glances from her mother, Petunia joined the on the couch, taking a perch on the arm and the furthest possible place to sit while still seeming interested in the latest piece of family news.

“Came by owl,” her father remarked, bemused. “Imagine that.”

“Where on earth did Lily get an owl?” gasped her mother.

“She says she borrowed one from a friend. Also hints that they make wonderful birthday gifts.”

Her parents both laughed at the amusing remark, but Petunia kept her lips pursed tight, knowing that once Lily’s birthday _did_ come around, the would more than likely be a wrapped, moving birdcage waiting for her when she first woke up in the morning.

“Here.” Petunia’s father handed a second envelope to her. “It looks as though this letter is just for you.

Petunia snatched the letter from her father’s grasp and, taking advantage of her parents captivated attention, she snuck up the stairs and into her room. Once again, the logical part of her brain told her to just throw the letter away, yet she found herself tearing the envelope open and unfolding the letter. Maybe witches put some kind of charm over their mail so somehow, whoever they sent a letter to would _have_ to read it.

 

_Dear Tuney,_

_School has only been in session for a few days, but already so much has happened. Severus was Sorted into Slytherin, just like he thought he would, but I’m a Gryffindor. You did always say I was loud and brash, so I suppose the Sorting Hat saw all that right away._

_Sev and I only have two classes together: Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. But we are partners in Potions, which is lucky for me since Sev is really good. I’m still learning everything, but our teacher, Professor Slughorn, seems to think I’m a natural at the art. I’m not quite sure how this made Sev feel. Charms is another class I really like. On the first day, Professor Flitwick charmed my chair to dance across the room with me still in it! What fun! Transfiguration is okay, but it’s really complicated. I have to study hard, though, because the teacher, Professor McGonagall, is the Head of my house._

_Speaking of houses, I’m not sad about not being a Slytherin because Gryffindor is wonderful. I’ve made friends with most of the girls in my dormitory, and the older students are really helpful. The only thing about it I don’t like are the boys in my years, especially this one named James Potter. He’s always teasing Severus, and then he teases me for being friends with him. The Prefects say I should just ignore him or talk to Professor McGonagall if it’s really that bad. Natalie, one of my housemates, says I should learn the Engrogio Charm so I can give James Potter a REAL big head! And you know, I just might!_

_Of course, Sev wasn’t really completely honest with me about the houses. Remember what I said about wizards once not liking other wizards who came from Muggle families? A lot of them STILL don’t, and almost all of them live in Slytherin. And according to the older Gryffindors, there has never been a Muggleborn Sorted into Slytherin that anyone can remember. So even if either of us HAD been Sorted into Slytherin, we wouldn’t have been welcomed there. The other day, Sev and I were walking to Defense Against the Dark Arts together, and we passed one of the Slytherin Prefects, Lucius Malfoy. When we said hello to him, he called me a Mudblood and Sev turned completely white; whiter than usual. Once he was gone, I asked Sev what a Mudblood was, and he told me it was a really horrid, horrid name for someone from a Muggle family. When I reminded him that he told me that nobody cared about that kind of thing anymore, he told me he didn’t want to say anything that wouldn’t make me want to go to Hogwarts. I don’t know. I guess I understand. I’m still a little mad that he lied to me._

_Other than that, I absolutely love school!_

_Love always,  
Lily_

_P.S. In Mum and Dad’s letter, I didn’t tell them the Mudblood story because I don’t want them to worry. Please don’t tell them.  
_

There may have once been a time when Petunia Evans might have felt some compassion for her younger sister’s plight, possibly to the point where she would have boarded the next possible train to Hogwarts and dealt with that Lucius Malfoy herself. Now, however, Lily’s words just made her furious. _Poor, poor, pathetic Lily!_ Suddenly, her wondrous new school wasn’t so perfect and now she was crying to Petunia in an attempt to garner sympathy, going as far as to include an ‘us’ when she said Slytherin wouldn’t have welcomed them at Hogwarts.

_But I’m not AT Hogwarts, am I, Lily?_ Petunia thought angily to herself. No matter how many self-pitying words Lily wrote, Petunia was not a witch, and there was nothing she could do to save her little sister from so far away.

Even if she wanted to.


	4. Chapter 4 The First Christmas Holiday

****

**Chapter 4**  
The First Christmas Holiday  
  
  
Scents of cranberry, pumpkin, and pine needle floated up from the melting candle wax as Petunia straightened the yellowing lace doily resting beneath a fruit bowl filled with Christmas ornaments. The living room in the Evans’ home was already near spotless, but Petunia had to make it look like she had done something while her parents were away. If it even appeared that Petunia had done nothing but lounge around the house all morning, her parents would never let her stay home from the train station again.  
  
Actually, Petunia was shocked to find herself doing any more cleaning at all. For the past week, she and her mother had been completely sanitizing the house in preparation for Lily’s first Christmas home after her first term at that witch school of hers. And now her parents had gone off to the train station to pick up the little golden child. All morning long, Petunia had heard her mother gushing about all that Lily must have learned and how she would have to get her to put on a show for the whole family. This was because the family knew almost nothing about what Lily had been doing all this time. Mostly because Lily’s letters to their parents were extremely censored compared to the letters Petunia had received, leaving most details of actual magic and wizarding society absent.  
  
Lily had sent the family about three letters since she went to school, each one including a separate letter just for Petunia. Only with her older sister did Lily confide the less than perfect details of her _new world_ She was still picked on by the Slytherins for being a Muggleborn, the boys in her year were still nothing but prats. That ‘Potter boy’ and his friends had even made a new game of seeing how many beetles they could tangle in her hair during Potions; and how every day so far for Lily had been met with general shock and confusion. The letters that were written to Petunia were written in a fashion which showed that Lily still considered her older sister to be someone she could confide in.  
  
Secretly, the letters and the tone in which they were written disgusted Petunia, yet she found herself saving every one of them in one of the empty drawers of Lily’s desk. Part of Petunia’s mind told her that if ever need be, she could use these letters to prove to their parents that their perfect little witch daughter was very much a little liar. So far, though, she had found no occasion to do so.  
  
Speaking of which, convinced that the living room could be straightened anymore than it already had been, Petunia made her way for the staircase with the intent of going up to her bedroom. But there was even less to do in terms of cleaning in the bedroom than there had been everywhere else in the house. After all, Petunia was the only one who lived in this room now. She was the one who was always in control of what went in and what went out, leaving no room for surprising anything unexpected.  
  
Petunia sunk down onto the perfectly made sheets of her sister’s bed for no other reason Petunia could think of other than it was the one she was closest to. Sideways, with her legs still dangling over the edge of the bed, Petunia rested her head on the feather pillow. The cool cotton carried fragments of the winter chill, but still did nothing to bring Petunia out of the sudden feeling of fatigue that now griped her scrawny, somewhat frail body.  
  
She curled her spine with her legs still hanging straight, almost like a contortionist. She could see how pale her skin was, how her thin bones poked out, extremely pronounced. Petunia felt a sudden pang of disgust in her stomach. She had seen photographs of prisoners of war that looked less piqued that she did right now. But despite these feelings, she could not find the energy to push herself up off the bed and stop staring at what gave her these feelings. She could not figure it out. She had heard that a lot of people would actually get depressed in the winter; something about the lack of sunlight cutting off vitamins. Maybe she had something like that.  
  
Suddenly, from downstairs, she heard the front door slam shut from the force of the cold wind. A cluster of rushing voices could easily be heard at the foot of the staircase. A few key words that Petunia could pick out from the conversation were ‘Charms homework’, ‘points’, ‘shopping’, and much to Petunia’s disgust, ‘Sev’.  
  
Lily was home, and Petunia could hardly afford to be seen in the state she was in. Using all the strength she had to spare, she pushed herself up off her little sister’s bed.  
  
Petunia nearly went downstairs, though with every intention of stalling as long as she could, but then turned around and saw the rumpled mess she had left the sheets in. Seeing an opportunity to delay having to make herself a part of the cheesy family spectacle, she immediately began smoothing the sheets back. Again and again, she worked silently, almost compulsively so. She became so absorbed in the task in front of her, in fact, she nearly felt herself jump out of her skin when a pair of arms came up from behind her and take a constricting hold around her midsection.  
  
“Tuney!” Lily exclaimed as she threw her arms around her. “It’s so wonderful to see you!”  
  
As soon as Petunia caught her breath and felt her heartbeat return to normal, she finally turned around to meet her little sister.  
  
But when she cast her eyes down, she barely recognized the little girl standing before her. Sure, she was wearing a knit jumper she had seen her little sister wear on several occasions and the hems of her blue jeans were dirty and frayed, just like every single pair that Lily owned. And yet, the child she saw now appeared nothing like the child her younger sister, or any child she had ever passed in the cluttered, industrial town they called home.  
  
Lily seemed to be glowing. Her eyes were bright and her toothy smile shone in a way that caught every fragment of light in the room. She had an ethereal air about her now, making the surrounding scenery seem all the more dingy and dull, even after all the toil that had been done in preparing for her arrival. When had all this happened? Petunia had been certain she had never noticed her sister taking this effect on her former home before.  
  
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Lily asked when her sister wouldn’t answer her. Even her voice had a bright sound to it.  
  
“Hello, Lily,” Petunia remarked dryly with the same tone one would use when running into someone unpleasant on the street. “It’s so wonderful to have you home.”  
  
If Lily sensed this animosity, she certainly didn’t let onto it. Instead, she grasped her sister’s hand and began leading her back towards the doorway.  
  
“C’mon, Tuney,” Lily said, dragging her older sister out of the bedroom and towards the staircase. “Let’s go. I only just barely spoke to Mummy and Daddy about school. I wanted to find you first though.”  
  
And before Petunia could think of any form of protest, she found herself ascending the lower half of the staircase, with their parents waiting for them. Jumping the last three steps to the floor, Lily rushed into her mother’s waiting arms to be caught up in yet another hug, probably the thousandth she had already had today. And once her mother had the opportunity to embrace their younger daughter, then their father needed his turn as well. Sighing, Petunia took a seat on the bottom step and waited patiently for the family to finished the little love fest.  
  
“Petunia,” their mother called out to her once they were finally done, “let’s go into the kitchen. I think there may be some Mince pies waiting on the counter.”  
  
A small squeal of excitement escaped through Lily’s clench teeth. Hopping along like a little terrier, she followed her mother with the promise of sweets. Eventually, Petunia pushed herself up off the steps and followed the rest of her family. In truth, she had no interest in cookies and she doubted her uneasy stomach could keep anything down even if she did.  
  
The kitchen was just as clean as the rest of the house, the floors probably clean enough to eat off. But the table was polished to a gleaming shine, the reflections of everyone seen perfectly as though it were a mirror. In the very center, a plate of pies was stacked in a neat arrangement. Blue, green, yellow, and red hundreds-and-thousands sparkled like treasures and the family members treating them as such once their mother handed them to all of them.  
  
“So tell us all about all you have been doing at school,” their mother said, placing another pie in front of her youngest daughter. “Don’t leave out a single detail.”  
  
After taking a very large bite of the sweet, Lily began telling the family all about her exciting new life, fragments of pastry and red hundreds-and-thousands spraying across the kitchen table as she did so.  
  
“Transfiguration is pretty hard. So far, we’ve only been doing small transformations, like turning toothbrushes into hair brushes. For our final examination, we’re going to have to turn a hedgehog into a pin cushion, so I’ve been doing some practicing on my own.”  
  
“Then how about a little demonstration?” their father suggested as he slid the remaining pies onto the tabletop and handed the empty plate to his witch daughter. “What do you think you’ll be able to turn this into?”  
  
“Well, actually we’re not supposed to use magic outside of school,” Lily explained solemnly. “There are laws about it and everything.”  
  
At first, their father seemed disappointed, like a small child who had been denied sweets at the supermarket. But their mother elbowed him and his expression soon shifted. “Oh, that’s alright. Do you girls know what I feel like doing tonight? Going out to dinner, I’m paying. This last part was added in a joking manner, as though there were someone else who was going to pay. “Everybody out to the car!”  
  
Once again, Lily squealed in excitement, cramming her last pie into her mouth. Their parents pushed themselves away from the table and made their way towards the coat cupboard to get the family coats.  
  
But as soon as their parents were gone, Lily leaned in to whisper to her sister, “But Sev says that these days, the Ministry of Magic is so busy with other things, that almost nobody is paying attention to what students are doing while they’re away from Hogwarts.”  
  
Lily’s eyes scanned the kitchen from left to right before finally rushing towards the sink. Rolling up the sleeve of her jumper, she fished out a still damp teacup and ran back to her sister. First drying it with the rosy red yarn of her jumper, she set it down on the table and pulled her willow wand from her jeans pocket.  
  
“Watch this,” she said, giving the cup two gentle taps with her wand.  
  
Before Petunia could get a word in edgewise, the white porcelain morph into a rather large, furry white rat.  
  
At the shock of what had just happened, Petunia could not help herself; she screamed. She knew that her sister had to have learned to do _something_ while she was away at that school of hers, but to actually see it with her own eyes…  
  
The rat made its way towards the edge of the table and stood on its hind legs to sniff in Petunia’s direction. Once again, a scream that could have shattered glass echoed through the small kitchen.  
  
“Sorry, I’m sorry!” Lily cringed as she apologized. Tapping the rat with her wand once again, the rat shifted back into the delicate china cup before their mother could even respond to the shrieks of her daughter.  
  
“Petunia, Lily, what wrong?”  
  
“Nothing, Mummy.” Lily tried to appear calm as she lied through her teeth. “Tuney thought she saw a rat, but it was just the teacup.”  
  
Assured that nothing was wrong, their mouth let a sigh of relief escape her lips. “Petunia, you really must look more carefully before you scream like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”  
  
“Yes,” Petunia answered, lying through clenched teeth as well. “Silly me.”  
  


* * *

  
  
In town, the high street was an overdone display of tacky Christmas cheer. Ribbons and tinsel of bright red and green stood out brightly against the snowy-white scenery while felt reindeer and elves watched the shoppers pass by with their dead glass eyes. Lily made sure to take the liberty of telling both Petunia and their mother that _real_ elves looked nothing like the somewhat creepy-looking decorations that graced the entrances of most shops.  
  
Their mother led them through shop after shop, gradually working her way through a long list of names to buy gifts for. In most shops, she would encourage her two daughters to run off by themselves so they could buy little trinkets for their school friends. Every time their mother said this, however, Petunia would always think to herself that this was exactly how little girls ended up getting kidnapped and taken away to Portugal.  
  
Petunia herself only had a few girls she considered herself friendly enough with buy Christmas gifts for. Girls who dressed more or less alike, repeated the same conversations day after day at the lunch hour, and seemed devoid of any real individuality or personality. But they had the human ability to speak and they offered Petunia someone to talk to in the secondary school halls; all that Petunia was really looking for in companionship anyway.  
  
In one store, while debating between a fruit-flavored toy lipstick and a plastic compact mirror, Lily made a point of telling her sister about every person she had said _hi_ to since she had been at school.  
  
“Natalie said she wants blue jeans,” Lily said as she rummaged through the discount bin. “It’s a good thing she doesn’t know a lot about fashion. She has some Muggle pieces already, but she has no idea of how to wear them, so she always end up looking completely ridiculous. Mary just said she wants lots of different kinds of Muggle sweets. She the one who first got me to try Bertiebott’s Every Flavor Beans. Sometimes you get these really horrid flavors like blood or moss, but mostly they’re good. I’ll get her something chocolate, something gummy, maybe something sour. Maybe I should get her something rotten-tasting, like sardines, and tell her _they’re_ sweets! Or better yet, we could give them to Potter and tell _him_ they’re sweets…”  
  
On and on, Lily rattled while Petunia pretended to listen only half as well as she truly was. She found herself waiting for her younger sister to tell her about magic. If she couldn’t experience it for herself, the least Lily could do was paint a picture of it all for her. But for as long as Lily spoke, she never said a word about her wand or her classes or anything about what she had learned. To hear her talk, you would never know Lily was a witch or that her school was anything special. Her sister’s words soon became no different that the chattering noise that Petunia heard everyday in the school halls.  
  
“…maybe I’ll get something for Remus Lupin too. He’s not so obnoxious as the rest of the Gryffindor boys. At least he actually does his schoolwork most of the time. Besides, he always seems so sad and tired all the time. I wonder if…”  
  
This was all becoming very annoying very fast. Probably what was wearing on Petunia’s nerves wasn’t that Lily spoke like every other idiotic eleven-year-old in the world when she was anything but. What it really was, she was beginning to realize more and more, was that Lily was still behaving as though nothing had happened between the two sisters. Petunia thought that after her being snubbed by that witch school of hers and the fight she had instigated at Kings Cross, the girls would not even make eye contact with one another during the school holiday. It wouldn’t have made Petunia _happy_ in so many words, but it would have been a reaction she would have _expected_.  
  
But, as usual, Lily was using her ability to use the unexpected to her advantage.  
  
“Lily, will you be quiet for once in your life?”  
  
Lily flinched as though her sister had snapped her teeth at her.  
  
“Alright,” she spoke softly in almost a whimper.  
  
Then arriving just in time to miss the whole scene, their mother strolled over to her two children, arms completely filled with wrapped presents.  
  
“Girls, do you have everything you need?” she asked her two daughters.  
  
“Yes, Mummy,” Petunia answered quickly for the two of them.  
  
“Alright,” their mother said. “Well, then let’s go on to another shop.”  
  
Without waiting for another word, Petunia followed her mother out of the shop, not even waiting to see if Lily had left too. For all they knew, they could have left Lily in that store with the chance of never seeing her again. For the rest of the day, the two sisters did not speak, not even during the car ride home. The either kept their eyes forward or out their own windows, all conversation going through their mother. Their mother did not even seem to notice, her own eyes busy on the snow falling on the street and her own thoughts on the Christmas season.  
  


* * *

  
  
The peachy-pink in the wallpaper of the girls’ bedroom offered a warm glow, creating a type of sanctuary from the bitter cold that the sisters had been enduring all week. Identical mugs of hot chocolate rested in each girl’s hand, warming them on the outside, but doing nothing for the inner chill. In many ways, the scene might have resembled a picture perfect postcard for the holiday season, but the animosity between the two sisters carried a chill that could have frozen rapid water.  
  
Lily’s school truck rested at the foot of her bed, her sheets already a rumpled mess, and stacks of spell books and pieces of loose parchment weighted down by quills and an ink well covered her desk. About half of her stuffed animals had been pulled out from under her bed and thrown over the covers. In less than a week, Lily had completely reclaimed the room she had abandoned earlier this autumn; behaving as though she could just as easily live in that magical little world of hers, and yet easily come back to her old family as though nothing ever happened.  
  
“Tuney,” Lily spoke suddenly, bringing her older sister out of her thoughts, “can we talk?”  
  
Petunia made a noncommittal grunting sound that Lily must have taken as a yes, because she kept speaking.  
  
“Tuney, I can’t help being a witch,” Lily said in a sympathetic voice that only succeeded in making Petunia’s blood boil.  
  
Lily didn’t mean a word of this. It was all so fake. These weren’t even her sister’s words. They were drawn from the mouth of someone else, only being repeated by Lily, like a parrot or a record player.  
  
“Well, aren’t we so well rehearsed?” Petunia spat. “Who taught you all these big new words?”  
  
At this, Lily’s eyes shifted down and began shuffling her bare feet against the bedroom floor. “Professor McGonagall,” she muttered under her breath.  
  
“But still,” Lily continued on, though in a somewhat weaker sounding tone, “you don’t have to be so mad at me. You don’t have to treat me the way you have.”  
  
“ _Me?_ ” Petunia exclaimed, shocked. “You’re the one who ran of and left me here!”  
  
Lily stared dumbfounded at her sister, as though she could not believe the accusation Petunia had thrown at her. As though it were a complete surprise.  
  
“I _tried_ to get the school to take you too, but Professor Dumbledore said I was the only one in our family with magic!”  
  
“Yes, and that makes our _precious,_ little Lily _oh, so_ special!” Petunia spoke in a mocking tone. “It isn’t her fault she was the only one graced with such wonderful abilities that didn’t even touch her only sister!”  
  
But Petunia didn’t stop there. All the feelings she had been holding in since her younger sister left came bursting out as though from a broken dam.  
  
“That hasn’t stopped you from throwing the fact in my face every chance you get,” Petunia shouted, on the verge of screaming. “Using magic out of school, even though you aren’t supposed to—”  
  
“You, Mummy, and Daddy _asked_ to see it!” Lily protested.  
  
Still, Petunia continued on, “Pointing out everything the use ordinary and unworthy have wrong about stupid little things like Christmas decorations—”  
  
Lily might have protested more, had her words not continually seemed to be getting caught in her throat. So she just sat their, forced to hear her older sister berate her character.  
  
“—not shutting up once about all your wonderful, glorious friends at your new _freak_ school,” Petunia kept going on and on, “and not missing and opportunity to tell the rest of us _ordinary_ people all about how inferior we are to her mighty witchyness!”  
  
Suddenly, the hot chocolate mug came crashing to the floor, creating a horrible mess all over the polished floor. But Lily hardly seemed to notice the terrible state she had created as she bolted from her chair and raced out into the hallway, gulping for breath as she wiped desperately at her eyes.  
  
“What? Can’t stand to hear the truth?” Petunia shouted out the doorway after her little sister. “Freak!”  
  
Knowing that it would only be a matter of moments before the hot chocolate set into the floor as a stain, Petunia crotched down to the ground and began picking up the pieces of broken porcelain. As she began wiping up the spilt drink with a used bath towel, she waited for one of their parents to burst through the door and yell at her for the words she had said to her little sister. The floor was spotless, if not slightly sticky, soon enough, but their parents never arrived. And Lily never even came back to their bedroom that night either.  
  
But Petunia hardly felt surprised. Nothing seemed to surprise her anymore.  
  


* * *

  
  
Christmas came and went with Petunia barely noticing it. Sure, there were a lot of beautiful presents under the tree waiting to be opened the Christmas goose was delicious, as always; but the entire day seemed to pass, as though a dream.  
  
The rest of the Christmas holiday passed much like Petunia had first expected it to. The two sisters lived in the same house, slept in the same bedroom, but barely acknowledged one another’s presence. Petunia on one side, pouring over algebra equations and _The Lord of the Flies_ , while Lily sat on the other, her work consisting of spell memorization and Potions and History of Magic essays.  
  
When it was time to bring Lily back to the train station, Petunia once again elected not to go. Lily did not even protest, much to the puzzlement of the parents. The two girls did not say good-bye to one another when it was time to leave and did not shed a tear over the departure.  
  
This would be the relationship the sisters would share for many years to come.


End file.
